Letting Go
by storyteller1425
Summary: Although the War is over, Percy is still plagued with nightmares, especially of the Fall. But he soon realizes that some of those nightmares are actually reality. Percabeth. Post-MoA.


**note: Well, this fic was inspired by _whisperedtouches'_ recent fic (which you guys should really check out because it's amazing). I haven't written something for this fandom in months, but it feels so good to write Percabeth again. Anyway, hope you enjoy this. I'm sorry for any tears (but not really).**

**My Tumblr: shirleythisgetsold**

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Rick Riordan.**

"Can't sleep?"

A sigh. A nod.

The bed shifts and now they're both sitting up. She moves so they're facing each other, though his head is still bowed. He feels her hand in his – warm, calloused, familiar.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

He's hesitant but he nods, knowing she would see right through him anyway. Gods only know how much he's lied to her – to himself – since it happened.

_They're outnumbered. The monsters slink out of the shadows, making it impossible to see where they come from. He's cut up and bruised and fairly sure that he pulled something, but Annabeth is in much worse shape than he is. Her leg is still broken, its condition worsening as they trekked through the darkness. It's all she can do to stay upright, let alone fight._

_But she is strong and stubborn and he can feel it in the way she stands behind him, her back against his. And when the monsters launch at them, she is ready._

"I'm just – I'm tired," he admits. "It's been months since the War ended, but I still have to relive it every night."

She sighs. "It's not something that you can forget easily."

"No. It isn't."

Silence settles between them, a heavy silence that speaks of memories and horrors, of the what-if's and what-could-have-been's. He wonders if she is weighed down by it as much as he is, and he secretly wishes that she is, as horrible as that sounds, because he needs to know that he's not alone, that he isn't the only one suffering.

"I'm tired of being scared," he continues suddenly. "I'm tired of keeping a light on in every single room. I'm tired of going to bed knowing that I'll have nightmares. I'm tired of keeping my guard up everywhere I go, always being paranoid."

She doesn't say anything.

"Aren't you scared?"

"Of course I'm scared," she whispers.

_There are too many of them. He tries his best to fend them off, but every time he defeats one, another takes its place, sometimes even two or three. He is struggling and he can only imagine how Annabeth is holding up, but he doesn't dare risk turning around to check on her, in fear of an attack while his guard is down._

"But Percy," she continues. "I'm only scared because I'm you."

_Then he hears something that turns his blood cold and paralyzes every muscle in his body: Annabeth's scream. It's one of pain and agony, reminiscent of when she had taken that knife to save him._

_Slower than he would have liked, he whips around to find her sprawled on the floor, her leg bent at an unusual shape and monsters hovering over her. Without thinking, he charges at the monsters, slashing and hacking at them, determined not to stop until he reaches her._

_But it's not enough._

He frowns. "W-what?"

Her eyes, the same shade of grey that can vaporize him on the spot but at the same time be his only comfort, pierce through his.

Except, he already knows something is off in her gaze.

"I'm only a figment of your imagination."

No, no, no, no, _no_. He shakes his head, as if trying to shake that thought out of it. "No, you're not."

Even as he says this, he knows it's a lie.

_He should have been more careful. It's the only thing he can think of as the monsters grab him, pinning his arms behind his back. This is it. He's going to die._

_But the blow he braces himself for never comes. What does come is so much worse._

"I- I don't understand," he whispers. "I thought you were fine. I thought both of us made it out. That's why you're here, because you're safe, because we're both safe."

She shakes her head sadly. "I'm here because you don't want to let go of me."

_There are more, slowly creeping in from the shadows. They're near her now and he screams for her, thrashing in his captors' grip. One of the monsters roughly picks her up. Her face contorts in pain; she stifles a cry and he wants to run to her, to save her, but he can't._

"I promised I wouldn't let you go," he says brokenly.

_She's looking at him now, bloodied and exhausted but still so painfully beautiful. She mouths those three words to him before they drag her away, into the perpetual darkness._

"None of this is your fault." Her hand is in his again, but it's cold and distant with the lies that it carries. "I don't blame you. You need to let me go."

"I can't," he replies hopelessly.

_She's gone. Forever._

"You have to. It's the only way for you to move on from the past and be happier."

He hates that she's still so rational even in his imagination.

"How can I be happy if you're not here? How do you expect me to move on without you helping me?" He tightens his grip on her hand.

He doesn't want her to leave again. He's lost her too many times. He's had enough.

"Stay. _Please_."

"Percy, you need to let go." Desperation crawls into her voice. "Percy,_ I'm not real_."

He shuts his eyes, clenching his jaw. "_Stop it_!"

But once he opens his eyes, she's gone, swallowed by the darkness just like the first time.

He doesn't cry out for her, doesn't even react. He's already screamed and yelled her name in his nightmares every night since she's been gone. There are no more screams – no more tears – left in him. He knows better than to let himself believe in a figment of his imagination, to believe that she never really left him.

Maybe it's a sign.

_Percy, you need to let go._

Maybe she's right.

_You have to move on._

Maybe he does need to let her go.

_It isn't healthy for you to be like this._

Maybe she'll be happier, even if he breaks his promise — he can imagine her calling him an idiot for even doubting her.

_Please, Percy, I'll be fine._

His grip on her loosens.

_We'll see each other again._

Slowly, reluctantly, _finally_ he releases his hold on her and –

_I love you._

– lets her go.

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